


Voidout

by Whatnotwhynot



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, Character Bashing, Death, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Not Beta Read, Porters deserve raises, Sam Porter Bridges is a hero, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatnotwhynot/pseuds/Whatnotwhynot
Summary: Sam is frustrated. This porter is young. All babyfaced and stupid. He holds the bitter words that danced at the edge of his tongue. "What's your name?" Sam opted for instead of the cruel words that wavered on the end of his tongue. The porter looks up at Sam dully, before his watery blue eyes swept over to the ground."Everyone calls me Porter.""Porter?"
Relationships: Higgs Monaghan & Original Male Character(s), Sam Porter Bridges & Deadman, Sam Porter Bridges & Fragile, Sam Porter Bridges & Original Character(s), Sam Porter Bridges/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 23





	1. Sleep

We only ever see blue while the sun shines.  
So while it's there, the blue, take heart.  
For in these moments you are far closer to being healed than those who take comfort in the coldness of the void.

— Angela Abraha

* * *

The boy might be dead.

Laying there on the dirt floor like that so close to hostile territory. Sam isn't really sure, and he doesn't want to get close enough to check. He also doesn't want to admit he's afraid. It's just when this fear coils around his throat and manifests itself that the boy curls, mumbling something incoherent. Sam sighs. _He's just asleep_. Still, the boy looks dead to the world; but at least Sam feels like he can breathe now, especially with the knowledge that the boy isn't dead and isn't going to be necrotizing anytime soon.

"Hey!" Sam shouts at the formless mass of limbs.

The boy opens his eyes sluggishly, they're heavy, as if he held the weight of the world in them. His shoulders tense as he gets up with a noticeable sway to his body. His eyes look like pools of blue ready to flood down his reddened cheeks. The youth's face is boyish, with petite features despite his strong jaw line and a white scar running from his neck to the corner of his eye.

"You okay?" Sam asks, looking over the Porter.

The boy nods, wordlessly. His too blue eyes blink owlish underneath his thick brown fringe. "Just sleepin'." The boy whispers, trying to play it off as a joke while rubbing at his eyes.

Sam is frustrated. This porter is young. All babyfaced and stupid. He holds the bitter words that danced at the edge of his tongue. "What's your name?" Sam opted for instead of the cruel words that wavered at the end of his tongue. The porter looks up at Sam dully, before his watery blue eyes swept over to the ground.

"Everyone calls me Porter."

"Porter?"

"Yeah."

Sam kicks the destroyed cargo with a heavy foot. "This your delivery?" It isn't much of a delivery now, even if Porter got it to the destination the recipient wouldn't be pleased with the state of things. Porter swallows flinching back as if slapped. "Aren't you a little young to be porting?" Sam asks skeptically. Porter chuckles, it's a hallowed out sound. Void of life. It sends a shiver down Sam's back.

"Yeah." Porter answers (although Sam isn't sure which question the boy is answering). Porter stares at Sam, pooling blue eyes looking defeated. "You're Sam Porter Bridges, right?" Porter gets up, looking like he'd fall over any second. "It's awesome that your re-connecting everyone dude." Porter offers a fragile smile. Sam just nods.

"Just doing what I have to." To get Amelie back.

"I can understand that." Porter shuffles closer to Sam and offers his fist as a solidary fistbump. His hazy eyes clinging to Sam like a lost hope.

"Fistbump—"

Sam moves away from the gesture, not meaning to be rude just not wanting to be touched. Porter blinks, his hand still raised in a fistbump gesture. His too-wide smile almost shatters, and Sam is afraid that the pools of blue in the boy's eyes might flood his face.

"Sorr—"

"Nah, man I get it," Porter strains, his expression chargrined as he retracts his hand and grabs his gear. "I'll see you around Mr.Bridges!" Porter flees down the rocky mountainside, before Sam can get in another word.

* * *

It's a few days later when Sam sees Porter again.

Lou is laughing, excited to have escaped BT territory with no significant damage. "Yeah, me too kid," Sam offered. The distro-center isn't too far now, making these deliveries would be a smooth trip now. It's once Sam passes the river that he sees Porter.

The boy is curled in a fetal position, trying his best to look small but failing. Porter's skin is warm and tacky with sweat, the boy cries weakly, cheek pressed hard against the dirty rubble underneath him. 

"Hey, kid?" Porter starts. Awakening from his sleep, eyes flying open as his body shoots up. The boys exhaustion is weighing heavy on his limbs. Sam stood there, sunken, barely open, tearful blue eyes stare back at him. The boy smiles at Sam, the smile still lacks _life_. It's scary and this fear, Sam realizes, isn't about the dead, it's about the lack of life coursing through Porter.

"Sam! Hey!" Porter calls playfully, fubbing the tears from his eyes like a child. "Remember me?" The tone is light-hearted but carries a desperation to it. Sam nods, curtly. Porter blinks, unruly eyebrows quirked as he laughs.

"Awesome-sauce," Porter sighs out, pulling his body into a more comfortable position, away from the mud.

"Why are you sleeping out here?" Sam questions, eyeing the mud as he shifts the weight of his cargo. Porter goes silent, shoulders tense, face despondent. His flushed lips are pressed together firmly, and his expression is complicated. "Want to help me finish this delivery?" The words surprise Sam, but he isn't mad at himself for offering.

Porter laughs again, this time as if sharing an inside joke. "I'll just get in your way Mr.I'm-connecting-America." The boy blows his overgrown fringe away from his eyes. Sam narrows his eyes.

"You sure?" Sam questions once again. Porter nods sluggishly, his smile dimming.

"Totally dude, fistbump?" Porter offers his fist. Sam takes a step back cautiously, remembering the last time Porter offered. That inconsolable rejection on the courier's face— "We don't hafta touch, it's an air-fistbump dude!" Sam raises his fist and makes the motion of a fistbump without actually touching the other courier. "Awesome, have fun Sam," Porter encourages.

* * *

"What does it mean if someone keeps sleeping?" Deadman turns toward Sam, he isn't really here in the private room, but his chrial projection is.

"It could mean alot of different things Sam, specifics to what you are asking could help me answer your question with the most accuracy." Sam sits on the edge of the bed silent, eyeing the monster energy drinks. Deadman turns around, his red coat catching the light.

"There's this kid, Porter—"

"Kid?"

"Not a kid, kid just a _older_ teen but _younger_ adult?" Sam groans, he has no idea what he's talking about. Deadman makes an interesting noise as he walks around the room.

"A young adult you mean."

"Yeah, That. He's always sleeping on the dirt roads and mountainsides, he seems like he's just _empty_ inside. I don't know it creeps me out."

"This porter could suffer from many things Sam, Hypersomnia is an excessive sleepiness, it can be caused by many factors like social life, worklife, exhausting the body's reasources, medication, a varying amount of sleep disorders, depression—" Sam flinches at that. Deadman must catch the subtle gesture, because he makes his way across the room and offers a courteous smile. "Ah. I'm sure it's nothing. You also seem to sleep at random places at random times. Maybe it's a porter thing"

Sam blinks, "That's different..." he trails off.

Deadman turns, "If you want, I could come to your Distribution center and check to make sure everything is okay?" Sam shakes his head, discouraging Deadman's enthusiasm.

"No, it's probably nothing."

~~

The boy's eyes lazily open, revealing the river of blue. His eyes are still glazed over with remnants of whatever forgotten dream he just had. Porter likes sleeping. When he sleeps, he sees the beach. It's like, the beach is calling him back, like a siren singing.

He wants to go back.

Falling asleep is easier than waking up. Waking up, hurts. His limbs ache, his teeth ache, his eyes hurt, his muscles hurt. But, It's probably the grogginess of life, of reconnecting to the living world, that hurts most. The sound of distant thunder is heard in the distance.

Falling asleep is much easier than waking up...

~~

Sam finds Porter laying on his side underneath a timefall shelter. He looks peaceful, sleeping like that. Sam steps out of the hot and cold downpour of the timefall, and underneath the dry timefall shelter. The older porter looks down at Lou's darkened pod and starts to whistle. The baby doesn't dance along.

Porter hums in his sleep, body stirring, as if waking up for the first time in months. His eyes are the first to open, although they look hazed over and dead. Sam looks away from the younger man. Suddenly feeling as if he was intruding on something, that he shouldn't be intruding on.

"Sam?"

The boy's voice is soft. Sam moves closer to Porter. He's warm despite being out here for who knows how long.

"Yeah...It's me," Sam replies, looking over at the boy.

Porter smiles charmingly. Getting up from his laying position, he adjusts his equipment straps.

"How long have you been out here?" Sam doesn't mean to pry, usually he doesn't get involved, but...

"Not long at all, dude."

Sam doesn't know whether that was a joke, or a real answer. "Airbump?" Porter offers his fist and Sam looks at it curiously, before offering his own and completing the mock fistbump. The boy smiles, and gives Sam ten hearts. "Heard you connected another chiral network, good job." A crack, small but noticeable in the boy's smile.

Sam looks the younger porter over. "Are you okay?" He asks directly. The porter let's his smile fade, and his lips press together.

There is a moment of silence, where only the wind spoke.

"Things must be easy for you, bro." Porter pulls his knees forward, breaking the silence, and rests his chin ontop of them, Sam watches the boy, clueless. "You're reconnecting America, you're a great Porter and everyone knows who you are." The boy sounds about ready to cry. "Sam Porter Bridges, the man who delivers," Porter whispers with the slightest tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"Me... I...I wasn't destined for great things. My father, he was a good Porter." The boy laughs to himself giving Sam a polite smile. "Not as good as you though. Me? I'm not a good porter, kinda decent? Sure. But that doesn't matter. I'm a nobody, I'm nothing. Nobody knows my name they call me Porter, I'm— I'm not Porter— my name is Jackson. " The boy's blue eyes glitter as tears form, obscuring his vision.

"I see the beach when I sleep."

Sam almost stops breathing. Porter looks up, a twinkle in his eyes, as if sharing a secret with the other courier.

"At the beach... I matter." The boy pulls his knees closer digging at the ground. "I'm not a nobody, I'm not nothin', I'm not a meaningless background character in someone else's story. I got _meaning_...Ya'know." Porter looks up at Sam.

Before Sam can say anything, Porter shakes his head. "Sorry, that was—stupid." The boy breathes, trying to level himself. "I'm fine." The boy get's up, and offers Sam another carefully executed smile.

"Later, Mr.Bridges."

The boy leaves.


	2. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm still leaving."
> 
> "I know."
> 
> "You're not going to... y'know, do something shitty, right?" 
> 
> "I won't."

“We used to look up at the sky and wonder at our place in the stars, now we just look down and worry about our place in the dirt.”

\- **INTERSTELLAR**

_"Amelie can't wait Sam, you have to continue west."_

Sam looks up disdainfully at Die-hardman's chiral projection. "I know, it just—" Sam bites back his concerns for Porter; already knowing the mission is much too _valuable_ to be put on hold, for anything.

Die-hard man crosses his arms. His grainy features unchanged. "What is so important that reconnecting the cities has to wait?" Die-hardman is suddenly stern, awaiting an answer. Sam is silent. "Nothing to say?" Die-hardman concludes, after a while. Sam grits his teeth, and nods his head.

* * *

Sam wants to say goodbye to Porter.

 _"_ _I'm a nobody, I'm nothing."_

"Is this stupid?" Sam asks Lou, who gurgles thoughtfully at the question. The courier chuckles, quirking an eyebrow at the baby. "That a yes?" Lou doesn't have anything else to add, except a yawn.

~

Sam finds the boy by the creek.

He's looking out at nothing, blue eyes iced over, robbing them of the warmth they had left. Emptiness is within those eyes. Sam knows Porter is here, but it's like he took a step back from Life itself. Sam also knows that Porter is in pain. The pain is worn so clearly on the kid's face, it makes Sam want to— selfishly— make it go away.

"Porter?" Sam addresses the boy. Porter draws his eyes up and smiles at Sam, weakly.

"Hey, Mr.Bridges..." The boy slurs his words, hazy blue eyes pinching into a smile. "Airbump?" The boy sets the bottle he's been nursing down onto the ground, it tumbles, but Porter doesn't seem to care.

Sam shakes his head, reluctantly declining the offer. The boy frowns, lowering his head in rejection. Sam swallows, _no connections._ "I'm leaving," Sam spits the words out, not cruelly, but as a statement. Porter looks up. "I have to continue west, I'm probably not going to be back."

"Oh," The boy replies, blinking. "I'm glad— I got to meet you dude."

Tears seep out of the boy's eyes, they run down his face like torrents. Porter rubs at his eyes. "You're a good guy, such a good guy— and I—I did something bad I'm bad—HHn!" The boy curls his arms around his abdomen and sobs hard. The sobs are pained, Sam takes on look at the kid and knows something is wrong.

"What's wrong?" Sam watches the boy wither in pain. Porter let's a scream out that has Sam on his feet. "Porter?"

"I took some pills." Sam goes cold. "It was. Mmm. A DUMB idea." The boy smiles, cheshirely. Sweat cooling on his face.

"Why?" Sam demands. Finally, he has a relevation. "On purpose? To—Kill yourself?" Sam hisses the last part out.

"I have nothing to live for, nobody wants me to port their shit anymore, you're fucking _LEAVING_. GODDAMNIT, it feels like somebody is ripping my organs out!" The boy curls into a tight ball, sobbing louder. "This is _**so**_ not what I wanted."

"Do you know how selfish that is? What about the people who care about you? Who want you here? How are they going to feel—"

"NOBODY WANTS ME HERE! My parents are gone dumbass, I'm alone. I'm just another Porter drifting in a sea, waiting to die." Sam gives Porter a clinical look. Porter gives a strained smile. "Sunset, to sunset. Amirite?"

"How long ago did you take the pills, and how many?" Porter let's out a pitiful sound.

"A bottle and a half— an hour ago— with half a bottle of alcohol." Sam sighs. "You don't have to stay, You aren't obligated to help me!" Porter whines, letting his head fall to the dirt floor. "I deserve this."

"Nobody deserves this shit," Sam grumbles, walking away from the sobbing courier.

"Where are you going?" Porter whispers, watching the legend from his place in the dirt.

"I think I left a motor vehicle over here somewhere, I'm bringing it to haul you to the Distro-Center North of here."

* * *

Porter lays on the bed, a warm towel pressed to his still aching stomach. The boy looks small out of his torn up freelance gear. He's wearing a well loved shirt. Made from cotton, a forgotten fabric. The shirt is red with a faded picture of...Something graphic on it. Porter groans low in his throat. Sam isn't very good at this comforting thing. "So. Do you need anything?" Sam grimaces.

"Am I gonna die?" Porter mumbles. Sam shakes his head.

"If the pills worked you would have already...." Sam trails off, losing himself for a moment, before relocating his gaze to Porter's watery eyes. "...been gone."

Porter nods, sullenly. Eyes drifting around the room. "I'm sorry I called you a dumbass." Sam snorts.

"It's fine."

Porter sits up from his laying position, awestruck.

"So is this where the famous, Sam Porter Bridges, sleeps?" A ghost of a smile forms on the boys face, Sam nods. "Amesome," Porter chuckles, childishly, before his smile leaves and with it his warmth. "Thanks for, ya'know, helping me dude, but I think I'm okay now."

Porter lays the now lukewarm towelette on the table and gets up. It's not a moment after this acclamation that the boy yelps in pain.

"Oh shittt!" The boy sobs out, falling backward onto the bed. Sam tries to muffle a chuckle, but fails. Porter watches Sam laugh and cracks a hesitant smile himself.

"You don't have to leave," Sam states, picking up the towelette and wetting it with hot water underneath the tap. The older man shuffles back toward Porter and hands the wet towelette to him. Porter takes the offering, holding the warmth underneath his shirt.

"Thanks," Porter whined, expression agonized. "Are you sure this is okay dude? I can leave it's no big—"

"It's fine, stay, sleep."

Porter looks down almost shamefully, before nodding and curling into a fetal position.

~~

Waking up is always hard for Porter, but waking up with a panicked Sam, yes aspensphomphobic Sam, shaking him is enough to have Porter jolt awake into a proper consciousness.

"What?" Porter breathes out, hair muzzled. Sam is shaking In front of him. "Sam..? What is it?" Porter's voice sound childish in his own ears.

Sam's expression is haunted.

He looks at Porter and sees a ghost. _Lucy_.

"...am?" The courier hears in his head, calling him back to reality. "Sam? Did I do something? Shit! I'm _always_ doing something... Snap out of it dude!"

Sam looks up at Porter. The youth looks about ready to cry in relieve.

"I– you wouldn't wake up," Sam replies, lamely. Porter let's out a mirthless laugh, that morphes into a shaky sigh.

"Man, you just gave me like eighteen aneurisms at once. I thought I broke Sam Porter Bridges for a sec." Porter chuckles dryly. "Mmmh." He runs a hand along his face, before offering his fist. "Sad airbump?"

Sam stares at the fist before finally air bumping.

Porters eyes trail Sam's exposed hair. The younger courier smiles almost too widely. "You're killing with your hair down! You look..." Porter looks up at the ceiling searching for a word. "...fierce?" Porter tries contemplaively, his feature drawn inward. Sam tsks, and shakes his head, dismissing Porters compliment.

"What? You don't like that word choice? What about cool? Ooh, or maybe— nice!"

"You're on thin ice kid." Sam groans. Porter gives sympathetic smile before turning to the pod on the front wall.

"Is that your BB?" Porter asks in wonder. Sam nods.

"I named them Lou."

"Lou?" Porter looks up, testing the name on his tongue. " Lou."

The younger boy goes up to the dark pod and taps the glass. The pod lightens revealing the tiny baby, who yawns. "Hey Lou!" Porter exclaims, waving excitedly at the baby. Lou blinks at Porter and wiggles in their pod, before it goes dark again. "Awe..."

~

Outside, Sam and Porter are silent. The elevator stops at the top of the distro-center. Sam watches as Porter apprehensively steps off. Sam walks Porter outside, and stops beside the parked bikes.

"I'm still leaving."

"I know."

"You're not going to... _y'know_ , do something shitty, right?"

"I won't."

Porter looks away, shameful as he wipes the tears from his eyes. "Dude. What are you waiting for? Go connect the world!"

Sam watches Porter, his face stoic. "One last airbump?" Sam offers. Porter blinks, before breaking into all smiles.

"Okay!" They make the motion of a fistbump, without really connecting. "Radical." Porter gives Sam a charming smile, waving the man off as he gets on the bike and leaves the center, it's so quiet without Sam.

It feels like a voidout in his chest.

* * *

"Goddamnit!" Porter screams out at the fucking rain. It's always fucking raining. Fucking, Timefall. Why is even raining in this area? Porters like him always stick to strict BT free zones— unless. It rains harder, the timefall is warm and cold at the same time.

His cargo container is probably destroyed.

"It's not that hard," Porter says to himself, climbing over yet another hill. "If Sam...." Porter trails off, thinking about Sam still hurts some times. Porting takes the pain away sometimes. Porter wonders most days if he's going to become one of those MULEs.

"God, I hope not."

The rain is vicious, unlike any type of timefall Porter has seen before. A storm, of wind and rain mixing into a amalgamation of terror. Porter tries to climb over the rocky passage, but slips.

The fall is a long way down, and by the looks of it not a pretty way to go out. Porter reaches out grabbing onto the side of the cliff. "Shit," Porter rasps.

"Need a hand?" A smooth voice calls out infront of the boy. Porter looks up, gripping the hood of his shitty porting uniform. The figure is tall and lean, he stands on the cliff mockingly. It's most likely another Porter. How did he get up there?

"Yeah? That would be great, dude."

The porter offers his black clad hand, and Porter gratefully grabs it. "Just, _awful_ weather ain't it?" The man says, not even trying to be offensive, but managing to offend Porter anyway.

"Yeah, this timefall really is shitty." Porter looks at the stormy clouds, between them he spots a upside down rainbow. Porter makes a startled noise from the back of his throat. The man looks at the clouds and whistles.

"Upside down rainbow, don't that usually means BTs?"

"We need to go, _now_ ," Porter whispers, barely hearing himself over his ragged breathing. He adjusts his straps and climbs over the last bit of mountain side. The other porter makes a noise behind him.

"So, what are you doing out here all by your lonesome?" The man taunts, voice coming out wolfish. Porter wants him to go away now, running and hiding from BTs is easier when you aren't in a group.

"Porting, what does it look like?"

"You being Beach food?" The man laughs at his own sordid joke. Porter ignores the man, making it to a valley clearing. The timefall is harsh, making it hard to see. All he needs to do is get past this clearing and out of the storm. Away from the rainbow and Mr.creeps-a-lot. Porter looks at the other courier and sighs.

He can't leave em.

"Dude! We have to go!" Porter shouts, grabbing the man by the arm. "Come on, we have to get out of the storm! It's our only hope!" The man pulls away, dramatically.

"Your only hope, _actually._ I'm Higgs, the particle of _god."_ Higgs makes a sweeping motion and the water turns black, gathering at Porter's feet like goo. "And that?" Higgs snaps in the direction they came from. "Is a Catcher BT. One bite out of you and it's gone days, kid."

"You are such a turd!" Porter yells, looking at his ruined boots. Higgs chuckles, before teleporting in front of Porter.

"Moopie, you ain't that smart _are you_? Better ditch the cargo honey, you gonna be doing alot of running." Higgs snaps his fingers and and teleports away, something big, dark and slithery approaches Porter from underneath the chiralium.

"GODDAMNIT!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :V it's Higgs oh no.


	3. Ability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam watches the kid. "I don't think you're cut out for this, Porter." Porter wilts from those words, Sam feels like shit. 
> 
> "Sam. I just want to help—" 
> 
> "I need to do this alone."

"Everybody is a genius, but if you judge a fish by it's ability to climb it will live it's whole life thinking it is stupid."

— **ALBERT . E**

"That..." Higgs chuckles, looking out at the decimated area. "Was fun... You actually survived, what a thrill, ain't it?" Higgs turns to the boy. "Moopie? Are you crying? Ha!"

  
Porter was crying, unshamefully, like a _baby_. "I **_s_** _ **o**_ want Sam right now." He blubbers, chiralium contaminating his tears. Higgs sighs, squatting to Porter's level. The "god" shakes his head. This is the first time Porter can actually see the man underneath the hood.

Huh, who knew God wore eyeliner.

"Sam Porter Bridges doesn't want you," Higgs cracks a smile. Porter looks up at the man; heartbroken, as if he was kicked. "Sam has things to deliver, people to connect, BTs to defeat. Do you really think he needs you?" Higgs smiles, putting on a golden skull mask and teleporting behind Porter. This gives the boy goosebumps. "I'll give you a hint, it starts with N and ends with O."

"Dude," Porter sobs out. "Not cool."

"Moopie, there are bigger things out here than you, I mean compared to Amelie, ya'know the one Sam _actually_ gives two shits about. You ain't nothing but a background character in someone else's life story, _sorry_ honey. "

Higgs turns to leave, but Porter shoots up grabbing his arm.

"What does that make you? God? Bringer of bullying and pain? The villian?!"

Higgs tries to pry the boy off, but Porter latches onto him. Porter hisses in pain, curling his unoccupied hand around his side, the sudden erratic movement causes pain in his legs and abdomen, where they were still tender from running.

"I prefer the word, _antagonist_ ," Higgs sneers. The first faint trace of irritation crosses the man's visage. Porter grits his teeth, undeterred even as the phantom pain of all that running sets in. 

"What a lame _antagonist_ , antagonizing _a background character!_ If I'm such a nobody why is the big bad heckling me!"

Higgs sighs, finally ripping his arm away from the courier's frim grip. Porter screams in pain.

"Cause—" Higgs starts, smiling with fatuous superiority. Porter looks up at him in realization of something.

"Wait! Wait— Buddy, you said you were a God right?"

"Particle of—"

"Whatever, can you take me to Sam?" Porter asks, with a sharp somewhat incisive voice. The kid's eyes light up with fire. "Can you take me? With your little teleporting thingy." Higgs laughs behind his mask.

"I'm not your personal motorbike, go yourself you little shi—"

"Please?" Porter latches onto Higgs' boots. "I passed your test, the BT one right? Am I worthy, your almightyness?"

"Kid...Get off."

Porter doesn't let go. "You owe me!" 

Higgs stops struggling, appalled in speechless disgust. Looking down at the boy Higgs screams in frustration. How did this little twerp have the power of eighteen men?

"You owe me, you ass! I lost my delivery because of you!" 

"The world is ending and you want to have a meet up with your little courier friend?!" Higgs roars.

"The world is ending?" Porter seems sarcastic, and not really shocked by this relevation. "When is it not?" He deadpans.

Higgs sighs, rubbing a hand along his mask.

~

"Cryptobite?" Fragile offers the squirming bug to Sam. Her eyes are limpid, and her beauty is softened by an air of indolence. 

Sam declines, groaning as he takes off his boots and sits on the edge of the bed. His feet are frozen to all hell. Fragile smiles politely and eats the cryptobite herself. It wiggles and crunches underneath the force of her teeth. Sam feels as if he's going to barf, but Fragile seems content with her snack. "You are doing well, I hope?"

Sam shakes his head almost disappointedly. "These fucking mountains." He groans, analyzing the cuts on his feet. They _finally_ stopped bleeding. Fragile looks down at the reddened flesh with curiosity.

"You will be good as new with a day of rest." Sam mutters something. Fragile sits next to him, smirking prettily. "What was that?" Sam looks around the room cautiously. Fragile watches him intensely.

"Nothing," Sam concludes. "Dude." He unconsciously adds, feeling an empty chill bore it's way into his chest. Sam smiles almost automatically, "That's something Porter would—" Sam stops himself, thinking about the boy with the river for eyes and the sad smile makes Sam feel _empty._ Like he left behind a piece of himself, something important.

Fragile notices Sam's expression. "I'm sure whoever they are, they are fine." Fragile raises her brows curiously at Sam's grimace. "Who, were they?"

"He is—"

There's a banging on the door. It startles Sam so bad he almost falls off the bed. "Can you get that? My feet are, uh." Sam looks down at his pretty fucked over feet. Fragile nods, getting up from her seat on the bed she walks over to the door, opening it.

"Oh. Hello?"

"Hi?"

Porter steps into the room past Fragile. Porter's porting uniform is gone, replaced by some new clothes that he is overtly swimming in. The large blue shirt he is wearing comes down almost to his knees like a dress, and the black cargo pants are rolled up at the ankles. To top it off he's also wearing a clear timefall poncho and clutching a grey bag in his hands. Porter blinks at Fragile.

"Wow, you're tall for a woman," Porter blurts out comically. Fragile snorts with laughter.

"And you are short for a man." Porter's face goes red with embarrassment.

"Uh." He sputters. His eyes go up, looking at Sam's astonished features. Porter lights up, approaching the man from across the room.

"Sam!" Porter calls loudly. "Dude, God is a big jerk, he made me fight a BT, but also dropped me off with some artificial jerky, and this funky little thing called a Kazoo." Porter takes out a poorly made pink amalgamation from the bag he's carrying. 

"God?" Sam queries in disbelief. Porter nods churlishly. "Porter. Are you okay?" Sam stands up apprehensive, the stabbing pain prevents him from moving. Porter drops the Kazoo back in the bag.

"He wanted me to give you this." Porter reaches into the bag, revealing a note from his bag. It's still messy with chriliaum. Sam takes the note, cautiously.

_Dear, Sam Porter Bridges_

_How interesting your friend is. Yes, Moopie is a very special little porter, indeed. How are you doing? I wish_ _I_ _could see your face right now, all tense with anger. Ha. Well Legend, see you at_ _the_ _end._

 _I'll be waiting_ _for_ _you, maybe even Porter? You should keep an eye out_ _for_ _him, don't want him to have an "incident" again do we?_

_Faretheewell_

_:)_

_\- Higgs_

_"_ Shit." Sam looks up at Porter, who has his mouth full of fake jerky. His cheeks are rounded, full. His eyes are still tired, but don't look as if they will overflow down his face, which is good. Porter looks at Sam from under his bangs.

"Want some?" He offers, extending his arm toward the older man. Sam smacks the jerky away from them. Across the room. Porter watches the jerky fly with a caught-in-highlights expression. " _Dude_!" He yells. 

"What did he say to you? What did he do to you!" Sam yells. Porter scrunches his face in thought.

"God?"

"Higgs!"

Fragile stiffens at the mention of that name. Her eyes flash with an uncomfortable expression. Porter looks between them.

"Wait, so he's not god?" Porter puts the bag down on the bed. Fragile shakes her head. Porter gives a bitter laugh, awkward as it is. "Man, I thought he was a God. He could summon stuff and he could do this teleporting th—"

Fragile disappears from her place near the wall, and re-appears next to Porter. "Like that?" It takes Porter a full mintue to react, when he does it's in amazement.

"Oh my god, you are so cool!" A scarlet color creeps up on Fragile's cheeks, a violent assault against her ivory features. A completeness of beauty. Porter smiles boyishly, watching Fragile with enticement.

~~

_"Lucy?" Sam approaches his wife. She's dead. She's dead. "Lucy!" Sam screams. Death isn't pretty, it isn't something beautiful. It snuffs out everything that person was. Sam isn't looking at his wife anymore, it's a husk. Her light is gone. Sam sobs._

_A hand reaches out curling on his shoulder._

_"Sam?" Sam looks up, shocked. His eyes meet the corpse's._

_It's now Porter looking at him, his overgrown brown bangs hide his milky dead eyes. "It's cold." The boy whispers. His once red undertones are blue and grey with decomposition._

_"I could have saved you..."_

_Porter smiles looking down at his bloodied wrists. "Uhh, it's not so bad Sam._ _Stings_ _a bit. Plus you kinda saved the world dude."_

 _"_ _I'm_ _sorry, I_ _should_ _have—should have watched you—you shouldn't be dead— I'm so sorry." Sam cries. Porter presses his lips into a thin line, and carefully wraps his arms around Sam's neck. They are still bleeding at the wrists._

 _"Hnm. It's okay, man." Porter shrugs. "Wasn't your fault. I guess_ _I_ _was just created wrong."_

Sam wakes up crying. He uncuffs himself from the bed, looking around the monotonously dead room. Sam retraced his eyes to where Porter was sleeping. The boy mumbles something, sleepily. Sam tries to stop ths hammering in his heart, but nothing helps. Fucking nightmares.

"Good morning, Sam Porter Bridges." An automatic voice greets him. Just the same like everyday. Except— Sam looks down at the sleeping courier and relaxes. Porter was a breath of fresh air. "Hey, kid wake up," Sam calls. The Porter stirs, and smiles groggily at his friend.

"Hmm...Hey." There is a silence after Porter greets Sam. It infects the air. It's not a bad silence, but not exactly comfortable. Porter pulls himself up. The buzz of idolizing admiration radiates off the kid. He watches Sam with such a anguish it hurts. "You look tired." Porter pulls his knees up to his chin.

"I'm not," Sam replies, trying to rub the kinks from his back.

"...Can I..." Porter looks down, underneath his nails where chiralium has infiltrated. "Come with you? I don't—" Porter looks up at Sam. "Want to let you go."

Sam watches the kid. "I don't think you're cut out for this, Porter." Porter wilts from those words, Sam feels like shit.

"Sam. I just want to help—"

"I need to do this alone." Sam stands up effortlessly, pulling away from Porter. "I have no ties to anyone or anything, I think— that's the way it's meant to be." Porter's mouth quivers.

"Dude, So that's it? You don't wanna be— fri...ends?" Sam winces. Porter sounds absolutely recked.

"Porter—"

"No." Porter gathers his stuff. "I'll leave if you want...I know I can be annoying and reall...y...really irritating sometimes, but..." Porter trails off, placing a hand to his lips. His expression is grave, holding the weight of tears. Sam shakes his head. He shouldn't care as much as he does.

Porter is, his friend. Sam affirms reluctantly. They have a connection, whether Sam wants it or not. Sam looks at Porter. The boy is afraid. Afraid of that rejection. Sam wants to comfort the shaking kid, but the prickling of irrational fear alerts Sam that he'll never be normal.

The boy takes a step toward the door and Sam's throat leaps to his throat. The boy's frame collapses and shakes against the door. Sam's heart asserted itself, thunderously beating.

Sam walkes toward the boy, eyes sympathetic. "I don't want you to go either."

~~

"This uniform is so tight," Porter whines. Sam agrees the uniform hugs in places it wasn't supposed to hug in. It made for an awkward fit, but it was a step above the monstrosity of a uniform Porter was wearing before. This one is white, like before. A standard freelance uniform.

"What are you going to do after this?" Porter asks Sam, watching the Sam load cargo onto his back. Sam looks up contemplaively, before shrugging.

"Take a nap. You?"

Porter withers. Unsure of the unsteady future. "I don't know, _die_." Sam frowns. Porter notices it and smiles. "Just kidding man, uh. I really have no idea? Thinking about the future and stuff makes me kinda sad." Porter takes some of the cargo load from Sam, sticking his tongue out as he did. Sam chuckles. "Y'know, Cause life is sucky and then you die right? What's the meaning in that?" Porter laughs awkwardly.

"You're only a kid, you have a lot of stuff to look forward to. You'll find the meaning somehow." Porter rolls his eyes.

"I'm not a kid, I'm nineteen! I'm practically elderly!" Porter exaggerates, dramatically. Sam doesn't pay much mind to the boys antics."How old are youuu Sam?" Sam sighs, tight lipped as he watches the courier from the corner of his eyes.

"Fifty," Sam answers. Porter stops where he is and starts frantically counting on his fingers.

"Woah! Dude! You're practically like a fossil!"

"Watch it."

"I'm serious, man. Were you around when the stranding happened?" Porter gives a shit eating grin, quite proud of himself. "What about when the dinosaurs roamed?" Porter teases.

"I will leave you here."

"Awe, dude come on I was kiddin!"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


(No, he was not)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know Higgs probably would have said no, but Porter needed to get to Sam somehow and I th in nk Higgs has a soft spot for dumb noname porters.


	4. Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's with the blanket kid?" There's a sullen silence. Finally Porter moves again. 
> 
> "It smells like you, feels like a hug."

The thing about life is, it pushes you until you break just to see if you can put yourself back together. 

— **PAIGE . K**

"Porter? Come on kid, get up."

There's a tenderness to Sam's voice as he gets dressed for the next delivery. Porter is silent, only the occasional sniffle coming from the thick mass hiding underneath a synthetic blue blanket. Sam ties back his hair, and throws a hazardous look over his shoulder. "Come on, maybe we'll find another rock for your collection," Sam coaxes. The mass sniffles again.

"Man, the rocks are dumb. I'm _dumb_."

"The rocks make you happy, if it makes you happy it's not dumb," Sam rationalizes.

Porter pulls the blankets tighter around himself. Sam frowns. "What's with the blanket kid?" There's a sullen silence. Finally Porter moves again.

"It smells like you, feels like a hug." _Oh_. Sam shys away from the bed. Porter sniffles again, making Sam feel heavyhearted. "Sorry," Porter apologizes after a while, as if he said something wrong.

"It's fine." Sam dismisses. "Is... That what you want? A hug?" Sam asks hesitantly. There's silence, and then a boyish whimper.

"Sorry," Porter replies needfully. "I just— I get sad for stupid things sometimes, dude and— it's super annoying—but... Yeah."

"It's okay, but can you unwrap yourself from the blanket? Just so we can talk better."

"No."

"Why?"

Porter grows quiet, again. Sam is patient with the younger male, not pushing him too hard. "Kid?" Sam prompts. Porter's breathing quickens. The mass mow rising and falling with each breath in and out. Sam worries about suffocation.

"Dudddeee," Porter whines. "I've been crying for like, _ever_ and I don't want you to think I'm a sensitive, pussy princess or some shit like that." Porter sounds wrecked, like a single draft would knock him down emotionally, physically and mentally. Sam unconsciously shakes his head at Porter's logic.

"Have I ever called you a sensitive pussy princess?"

"No, but—"

"Then I think you have nothing to worry over."

Porter pulls the blanket off of him, until only his face shows and he is wrapped up like a baby. His face is red and his eyes water, leaking down his cheeks like a broken faucet. Sam attempts to smile at the boy, but the smile comes out faint and indiscernible. "There you are kid."

Porter sniffles, smiling morbidly. He sits up, clutching the blanket closer to his body. "Here I am..." He whispers disheveled and sad, but not just any kind of sad Sam notices. It's deeper than that. "Bro, I have the _worst_ headache."

"You were crying alot."

Porter sniffles "Yeah..."

"Want to talk about it? Why you're so— sad...All the time?" Porter doesn't answer. He looks down, shamefully. Sam continues. "You used to like Porting with me, you used to like the rocks, you... sleep all the time, I feel like you're not okay, kid."

"I am," Porter argues. His expression is wide, and owlish. Sam looks at the courier unconvinced.

"We can stay anoth—"

"I'm fine!" Porter snaps. "Everything's fine, it's totally chill man. Let's go, I don't want to hold things up."

Sam encourages Porter to bundle up for the harsh Mountain Knot weather.

* * *

Porter is not fine.

They deliver the packages fine, and even get bonus points for such a speedy deliveries (which was no joke, those snowy disaster-sides are nothing to dismiss).

Porter is oddly quiet, making for a dreary walk back to the distro-center. Sam jokingly points out some rocks from the partly frozen creekside. "Look, your favorites, smooth shiny ones." Sam nods in the direction of the rocks, petting Lou's glass nervously.

Porter looks at the smooth rocks hiding underneath the water's surface, undisturbed by the ice and snow. His bottom lip juts out, quivering. Sam stops in his tracks.

"Hm..." Porter let's out, before his face morphs into something indescribable, and the boy starts ugly crying _hard_. The sobbing hurts physically. It's a heartbreaking sound of desperation and despair.

Sam drops the lost Cargo he's been carrying and meets Porter at his side. Trying to calm Porter down was useless. The boy's face is red, and swelled from how hard he's sobbing. "Porter, what's wrong?" Sam questions urgently, feeling guilty and inept. Porter shakes his head, overly lengthy, brown fringe obscuring most of his features.

"I fo...forgot what hugs...feel like. I need to remember— I need..." Porter hyperventilates. "What if I never remember? I'm so fucking worthless, what if I die without remembering? I'm gonna _die, I'm gonna die—_ "

"You aren't going to fucking die, Porter!" Sam shouts. "Here, I need you to calm the fuck down—" Sam unclips Lou from his chest.

The baby yawns, turning in their tank. Lou eyes Sam inquisitively, anmoyed by the disconnection. "Be nice, Lou," Sam warns, handing the BB over to Porter gently.

Porter sinks to the ground smiling at the baby. "Heya, Lou."

He sniffles, holding the BB closer to his chest. Not too firm, but not too loose either. He breathes in relief, feeling the warmth radiating off of the tank. Lou smiles warmly at Porter, and tries to hug him back by putting her body against the glass, the gesture is nice, but the movement comes off as a bit awkward.

After a while, Porter finally calms down enough to hand a giggling Lou back to a distraught Sam.

"Thanks, both of you. I don't know why that happened, heh."

"Are you going to be alright?"

Porter nods, not entrusting words to speak.

~~

"It wasn't like anything I've seen before." Sam looks over at the younger porter, tucked away into the synthetic blanket. Sam never really did like blankets. The man turns back to where Fragile looks at the weapons wall. "I don't think he's going to be able to handle the rest of the trip."

"Sam, do you want Porter to come with you?" Fragile questions, walking toward the man casually. "If so, then you have to confront him about this." Sam shakes his head, peering at the woman.

"I don't know how."

"Start small. I'm sure you'll figure it out, you are Sam Porter Bridges after all," Fragile states with finality, picking up a smooth chipped rock from the collection. The word **FRAGILE!** is written on it with a choppy black ink. Fragile smiles at the rock whole heartedly. "It's fragile." The woman traces the chipped part of the rock with confidence. "...but not that fragile."

* * *

Deadman is a heavy set man with a cheery demeanor. Porter recognizes the man immediately from the chiral calls Sam gets alot.

"Uh, hey man?" The younger male says, looking over Deadman's physique, as he fills the doorway. Deadman smiles at Porter, stepping into the room. Porter is still wet from his shower, dripping a puddle on the ground.

"I gather Sam is not here at the moment? Talk about poor timing, eh?"

The man is odd, but strikes a happiness in Porter that the courier had forgotten about. Deadman quirks his head to the side, inquisitively. "You must be Porter, you are quite the talk at Capital Knot. Everyone is talking about the man traveling with our Sam Porter Bridges."

"Really!? _Awesome_."

Porter extends his hand for a handshake, but Deadman just goes straight to a hug. Porter stiffens from the contact, but eventually melts into the hug. "H-hey. This is kinda nice, man."

"It is a pleasure to meet you I am—"

"Deadman! I uh, see you, Heartman and... Die-hardman talk to Sam alot. You're the really nice one!" 

"How kind of you to say." Deadman tries to pull away, but Porter pulls him back into a deeper hug. Humming into the man's cushy and pleasant warmth. It's so nice it's almost too much to bare. "Oh!" Deadman exclaims in suprise. Embarrassment overides the joy, and Porter steps back heat rising to his face.

"Sorry!"

Deadman doesn't seem the least bit bothered.

"Interesting, your lack of physical contact has resulted in mild touch deprivation. You crave affection in the most human way."

"Can I huh...Have another one?" Porter tenses his body, bracing himself for rejection, but Deadman only smiles kindly at Porter.

"Of course." Deadman wraps his arms around Porter's smaller frame.

"Hmm." Porter hums.

~~

Sam comes back, finding Porter asleep and Deadman looking completely fine with the younger man curled ontop of him.

"Hello Sam! Did you know humans can purr? Such an interesting discovery."

~~

"What's sex like?" Porter asks suddenly, almost making Sam swallow his tongue.

Sam peeks over at Porter. The boy is trying to distract himself by picking the grass at his side, but Sam can still see how bright pink his cheeks are behind his fringe. Sam sputtes for a second thinking of what to say, before humming and settling into a stubborn silence. Porter waits for an answer.

Sam doesn't have one. Well, one that dosen't sound...Gross.

"Uh, sweaty?" Good going.

Porter laughs, it's a refreshing sound that Sam drinks in, watching as the clouds pass above them. Drifting endlessly in the ocean that was the sky.

"Why?" Sam has to ask, looking back at the younger man. His throat constricts in anxiety.

"I'm just wondering," Porter mumbles, ripping his gaze away from grass and staring up at Sam openly. Sam stares back. "I don't think I want sex, dude." 

"Lot's of people don't want relationships or sex."

Porter blinks, his mouth slowly curling into a delicate smile. He looks back to the sky.

"I want the relationship. Cuddles and romantic shit? Hell, yeah!" Porter throws his hands up enthusiastically, the bits of grass cling to his fingers desperately. Porter dusts them away to float free in the wind. "But sex? Meh." Porter shrugs comically, pulling his knees closer to his chin. "Have you had sex Sam?"

Sam looks away. "Three times, same woman." He thinks of Lucy. Once a very real and beautiful woman now just a hallow memory. His Lucy, sweaty above him, staring at Sam with love, _absolute_ love. Sam caressing her cheek, staring at her like she was the only one in the world for him. Porter is about to say something, but Sam gets up, cutting the boy off.

"We should go," Sam whispers. Porter watches the man cautiously.

"Dude, Did I say something?" Porter asks, Sam ignores him. Porter presses harder. "Like, what did I do?"

Sam doesn't answer.

* * *

"Amelie, right? That's who you're saving? Who we're doing this for?" Porter looks at Sam from the bed, he's wrapping his bloody feet in bandages. "Man, can you talk to me? I mean. You've been ignoting me for days. Whatever I said I'm—"

"No, you aren't," Sam blurts. "You say that and—" Sam bites back his words, but that doesn't make the blows any less harsh. "You're not my friend, not like that. You shouldn't have came. You're slowing me down and—" Sam shakes his head, turning to face the courier. He regrets it. "Porter—"

Porter shakes his head at Sam. "Stop." Is all he says. Getting up, putting on his boots and leaving

Sam feels angry and empty, all the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shortest chapter, but hey—
> 
> Also I have a Tumblr (peterfuckingenglert) now so... thats a thing if you want to talk about Death Stranding or bounce ideas off me.


	5. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A gun. Of course Higgs has a fucking gun.

Dead people recieve more flowers than the living ones, because regret is stronger than gratitude.

**— Anne Frank**

Higgs doesn't really give a shit about the MULEs, y'know being a particle of GOD and all. Only one of the yellow monkey's in particular really concerns Him— _There_. The slimey looking one, playing cards with his buddies and smiling like a werido.

"HUBERT!" Higgs shouts over the field into the MULE base. "Salutations." The man waves brightly.

One of the MULEs looks up from his cards. His smile retracts until nothing but a grim frown remains.

The MULE— Hubert— has a snake-like contour of his face, his eyes are dark underneath prominent brows, and his body is thin and wiry, but tall. Immediately in seeing Higgs, he makes a run for it. Flipping over the table in his escape; the cards go flying. The other MULEs cry out in anger from this transgression, but Hubert keeps running anyway.

Higgs shakes his head. They _always_ run. No matter. That just made things fun.

Catching up with Hubert is easy, dealing with him is not. Hubert is the human embodiment of a headache. Higgs kicks the man in his stomach. Hubert scrambles off the ground. A disheveled and distraught figure slipping around in the mud.

"Heyhey, you said no hard feelings! No hard feelings that's whatcha said and I'm just living my life and you come here yelling my name to all Hell—" Higgs is unamused. He leans in closer to the slimey bastard. Hubert gulps.

The sweat. Higgs did not miss the sweat. He forgot the _absolute puddle_ of sweat that was Hubert Browne.

"Shhhh, Hubert, Hubbs. That's water under the bridge. You stole my cargo, you lost a finger and a job, it's all good it's all good."

"Really?"

"Now." Higgs ignores him. "I was told from a certain someone that you have a little brown haired Porter on your base." Higgs grins wickedly. "Is that true Hubbs?"

Hubert shakes his head, his beady black eyes looking away from Higgs' imperious gaze. _Lying,_ s _limey bastard._ Is all Higgs could find himself thinking. A profound irritation oppresses the particle as he kicks the rat in his stomach again.

"I need the kid. You understand that don'tcha Hubbs?"

~~~~

"Did you find him..."

Sam's speech faltered at the arrival of Fragile. Her face grim and despairing. Sam guides her to sit down. The woman thanks him. They sit in silence for a while, before Fragile picks up her rock and smiled daintily. "You kept them." Fragile looks up, staring at Sam. "Why."

"They were—" Sam laughs. "They made him happy..." Sam's words trail off brokenly. His mind echoed words of regret that couldn't be properly voiced.

Fragile understood that. She reached out and placed her rock back on the desk, right next to the one labelled **SAM!!!** Which out of the collection was the smoothest and shiniest one. Seemingly untouched.

* * *

_The beach is a place of tranquility, well usually. Porter doesn't know what's happening. He opens his eyes and a woman in red is standing right where the sea meets the sand. She's whistling a tune that Porter vaguely recognizes._

_Porter blinks, rising from his position in the sand._ _The boy shakes his hair out, hating the way the sand smells like the seawater._

_"Uh. Hi!" Porter calls out to the blonde woman, subtly shaking the remaining sand particles from his hair._

_The woman turns toward Porter, her smile is tight against her pretty features. She takes a few steps forward and walks elegantly toward the courier. She's taller than Porter in her red heels. Porter cranes his neck up to stare at her._

_"I'm Porter!"_

_The woman giggles to herself, it's a soundless noise. Washing away and drowing in the sound of the ocean meeting the sand. "Uh, what's so funny?" Porter laughs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck; suddenly subconscious of his entire being. The woman reaches her hand out, an act of humility. Her blonde hair catches the light of the beach._

_"I know you, I'm Amelie."_

_Porter blinks in thought, before his eyes shoot up to the woman's friendly face._

_"Oh! Sam's sister!" Porter exclaimes, taking the woman's softer hands into his own. "It's nice to—"_

_An intrusive pain cuts the boy off. It's a throbbing of sorts. A sound that only Porter can hear fills his ears. The entire universe is flooding his brain. Amelie still has that plastic smile plastered against her pretty features._

_"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" The courier explodes, gripping his head violently at the roots of his hair. The sound is ripped away. The boy is squeezing his eyes tight so he doesn't see the way his shout knocks Amelie down into the sand._

Waking up is easier when you're scared.

Porter feels his stomach tighten in anticipation as his mouth runs dry. Porter doesn't know where he is when he wakes up, not at first at least. Then, it hits him. The nice MULE base. 

It's Boss who enters the room first.

Boss is a large MULE who controls the base. His face is horribly scarred where shrapnel from a bad explosion a few years back got stuck in his face.

Porter has only been at the MULE camp for a few days now, but the courier has really enjoyed spending time with the cargo chasers. (They were much better company when you had no cargo for them to steal.)

In the large MULE's hand is a cup of warm tea. It's artificial of course. As there were no tea leaves that existed to make _real_ tea.

Porter blinks, staring as the oriental cup. He takes the cup into his own hands, carefully as to not break the pretty glass china. Sharp blue eyes still focused on Boss.

Boss wasn't a very expressive man, but he cared alot. Kinda like Sam. _Sam_. Porter doesn't want to think about that turdwad. Not now. Not ever.

"Is this for me?" The boy asks, shyly. Not sure what he should do with the warm tea. Boss nods pulling up a chair next to the makeshift cot. The chair is too small for the man's large physique. Porter smiles exultantly. Trying hard to muffle a laugh "To drink?" The courier asks cautiously. Boss nods again.

"Thanks!" Porter exclaims. 

"Come to the main area when you're done."

Boss gets up, to leave. His words are sparse, but they carry a weight to them. Porter smiles up at the MULE. Putting down the oriental cup the boy quickly grabs onto the man's sleeve.

A soft, but desperate plea escapes him.

"Um, I was thinking, could I—"

Boss nods. Not even needing to hear the words that Porter was desperate to communicate. The man encompasses the boy in a hug. A quieting and soothing touch was laid on his soul as Boss pets his hair.

"Hm." Porter hums. It lasts only minutes, but the hug is nice and warm. Porter is happy Boss never seems to mind his incessant need for hugs. "Thanks dude," Porter mumbles as the man pulls away. The tea, left undisturbed as Boss leaves is lukewarm with a bitterness to it.

In the silence, Porter can still hear the universe.

* * *

Repatriation is death, but worse.

MULEs were an indirect cause of Sam's death this time. He's trying to run from them, but slips catching himself on the unstable ground as it crumbles beneath him. Sam can feel the exact moment his head hits the ground at an excruciating angle and his heart stops beating.

He wakes up on a base. His cargo stripped clean. Lou isn't on his chest. That's the first thing the man realizes.

"Lou?!" Sam calls out. Panic seizes him. It grabs him by the throat, threatening to burst from his chest. Repatriation doesn't get rid of the ache of death. It's still there. Holding Sam hostage. The man kneels over, holding his stomach together by his arms.

"Sam Porter Bridges, right?"

Sam glances up. A woman waves at him. She's small, with rounded glasses that take up most of her face. She looks to be middle aged with sleek black hair.

"Yeah." Sam stifles a cry of pain. God his ribs burn. "Where's my BB?" The man asks quite pointedly. The man cracks a formidable smile.

"She's fine. I'm Allison, the doctor of this Base of operation." The woman doesn't offer hand like so many others, instead she adjusts her glasses and clicks her tongue. "You're a repatriate are you not?"

Sam nods, not wasting energy in a full answer. "Patrick and Nudge were the one's who were chasing you. I apologize for any inconvenience they may have caused for you. You were carrying class five cargo correct?"

Another nod.

"Hm." The woman hums. "If you want to proceed with your delivery you're going to have to talk to Boss. He's in the main grounds right now. _Cataloging_. He's in a good mood today you might persuade him to give it back to you." The woman makes an irritating noise with her tongue again. "And if not." She shrugs.

Sam exhales. The woman's words swell in his ears. She taps her nails against the wooden boxes at the edge of the cot.

"Where is Lou?"

The woman is pulled from thought. Her shifty grey eyes land on Sam, encompassing confusion. "Who?" She asks absentmindedly. Sam grits his teeth as he pulls himself up. The pain is sporadic throughout his body.

"My BB."

"Oh." The woman comments nonchalantly. "Main grounds." The woman swings her pen in a vague direction. "With the rest of your equipment."

The main area isn't hard to locate. The MULEs flock to it. A blur of yellow suits crowding around, as they clean and sort cargo that isn't theirs. The display makes Sam angry, _people needed these things who gave them the right to take them away?_ but Sam swallows his anger. Until it simmers in his chest.

Atop the piles of cargo containers is Lou. The BB's pod is black. Sam fears having Lou away from his for too long. Separation anxiety issues. A MULE reaches forward handing her roughly.

"Hey!" Sam shouts annoyed by the way the man was treating his BB like she was equipment or property. She didn't deserve that, she was just a kid! "Give me her!"

The MULE looks shocked, but doesn't fight against Sam. There are no resurging memories as Sam puts Lou back into her place on his chest. Her pod comes to life, as the baby stares up at him sheepishly. Sam smiles at her, gently tapping the glass.

"Sam?" A voice cuts through the air. Thick and tense with wavering emotion. Sam looks up, Porter looks back at him, uncertain.

"Porter? Why are you here?" Sam takes a step forward anger rising in his voice. "I was worried for you. I thought you were dead. Do you know how long I looked for you?"

"I—" Porter blinks his youthful face screwing up in discontentment. "You were an ass Sam! You don't deserve an explanation from me after all that higher than thou shit!"

Sam pauses, unsuspectingly. He was terrible to Porter, wasn't he?

"I'm sorr—"

"Well, Well, Well what do we have here?" Higgs smiles menacingly at the duo. "Aw, a reunion you make my heartache moopie! And Mr.Bridges." Higgs leans in, eyes playful. "Have you been working out, _woo_ honestly you're looking like a snac—"

"Higgs you fucking _asshole_ , why are you here?"

Higgs smirks knowingly, yet he shrugs eyes glinting comically. "I'm here for moopie!" Higgs swings his gaze to the brown haired Porter who points at himself.

"Wait. Me?!" Porter exasperates. "Why do you want me? I thought I was a nobody, hm?" Porter smirks smugly at the man. Higgs genuinely laughs.

"No, you misunderstood kid. **She** wants you _dead._ "

Sam's blood goes cold, he knows something isn't right. Every fibre of his being tell him to get Porter away from Higgs before it's too late. The older courier reaches out, trying to grab the younger boy and pull him out of the way of the fire.

A gun. Of course Higgs has a fucking gun. He doesn't even blink when he shoots Porter right above his abdomen. The fucking _Sociopath_. 

Sam reaches for Porter, but It's too late, and the younger courier's blood explodes across Sam's face. The boy falls back, blood pooling in his gut. Porter is still smiling when he falls. The MULEs scatter like rats exposed in the sun.

"She said he didn't belong here. He's ruining the narrative." Higgs justifies himself, sounding almost sullen. "If it's any console the world's set to end anyway. What's one more life lost in the end?"

Sam only sees white as he lashes out at Higgs. He doesn't even get a hit in, before the man teleports away like a coward.

"Sam?" Porter calls, going into shock. "What happened? Where Higgs?" The boy gurgles, reaching his arm forward to try and get up. Sam pushes him back down though, firmly.

"Go get that doctor, uh Allison."

Sam directs one of the straggling MULEs. He's on the younger side, blood drained from his face leaving him pale. The young MULE nods running off in a unknown direction.

"Hey Sam, sorry for calling you all those names. I was angry, because you still act as if I'm nothing to you, but that can't be true....Right? We've known eachother long enough...I just...We're friends."

Sam is certain Porter isn't feeling the pain. Not yet at least. The shock overrides his body. "Yeah—you're my bestfriend."

"Dude. We're touching." The boy smiles, marvelling at the sight. His eyes are bright at his squeezes Sam's hand tighter. His mouth is full of bloodied teeth. "And you aren't totally freaking."

Sam nods. "Yeah. Yeah. We are touching aren't we?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omigawwd im so sorry you guys I got so side tracked, but here it is chapter five. I'm planning two more chapters after this and maybe a epilogue if all goes according to plan, but im a little bitch baby so...
> 
> (Yell at me on Tumblr @peterfuckingenglert. Thank you for all the love 💙)


	6. Jackson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sun is shining so bright. The air is warm and electric with memory.

His stomach tightens up. Just like when his mother used to push him too high on that little red swing in the abandoned playpark. The pain melts away, replaced with the overwhelming memory of his mother that brings with it a foreign invasion of emotions.

He remembers his ma used to smell like metal and this very specific perfume that had a solid, _clean_ , aroma to it.

The woman would always smile so fluidly, even when tired. Her choppy blonde hair rests at her shoulders like liquid gold. She's older than Jackson remembers. Age lines gather at the corners of her once seemingly ageless smile.

His chest is all knotted up, and suddenly he feels young and nostalgic.

The woman is wearing that neat white dress he always recalled when he thinks of his mother. Simple and elegant.

 _"You're going to do great things, Jackson."_ She would say, while stroking his back.

Jackson remembers those words, he used to cling to them as if they were absolute. He desperately attempted to believe them into reality. _I'm gonna be great!_ _I'm gonna be great!_

The sky is a cloudless blue. Jackson, filled with more conflicting emotions than he would like to count, sits down next to his mother and kicks away the pebbles and rocks from underneath them. The crumbling wall overlooking the shambles of the playpark where he used to spend most of his afternoons in his youth is creaking under their weight.

The sun is shining so bright. The air is warm and electric with memory.

_I'm gonna be great!_

~~

Jackson is a frail thing. With too many bandages and bandaids holding him together like glue. He sits on the edge of the street with pitiful, bright blue eyes. He's no older than ten.

The Bridges Homing Base, _BHB_ , houses forty people in dense closed off "houses" that resembled metal bunkers. Jackson lived in the one with the little broken gnomes in the front. 

"To ward off evil." His mother would say while poking his nose.

It was unbearably hot. The sun beamed down unmercifully on all that shiny steel and iron as if passing judgement.

Ma is fanning herself with one of those old traditional fans sweat slicked down her face and chest. The fan is one of her better ones. Painted blue and gold with white embroidered edges.

If it's like hell inside, it's worse outside.

Old Miss Kelner dies on her porch before the sun is even at the highest point in the sky. Jackson remembers, because it was so hot and he was slurping down glasses of water like they were a sweet elixir when Corpse disposal rolls into the base to the beat of a dismal death march.

Miss Kelner is loaded onto the truck with three other bodies from other bases and they leave.

Just like that forty becomes thirty-nine.

Jackson doesn't really know what to say to that. The other kids continue to play marbles in the streets, apathy clouding their eyes. Afraid of it, Jackson goes back to his too-hot "house"

Ma is still fanning herself infront of the radio. Her rocking chair is assembled from junk cargo dad had taken home from his long journeys outside months ago.

"Hey, Jackie," Ma calls, her smile bright as her soul.

"Hey..."

The woman's rocking slows, as she takes a good long look at her son. "What's up, buttercup?" She asks in a silly way, laughing while she does. Her humor has always been terrible.

Jackson, a pile of bandaids and bandages pulled at the hem of his shirt. It's old and worn down, one that was dad's so it fit on his body awkwardly.  
The boy eyes watches the woman fan herself with unshed tears filling his eyes.

"I don't want to die. What if when I die...The beach is scary—or dumb?"

The rocking slows to a stop. "The beach is like a part of you, and nothing that is you could ever be dumb. After all, you know yourself the best. You wouldn't create something you wouldn't like, yeah?"

Jackson takes in his mother's words, before nodding. "Yeah, you're right!" He smiles. "Thanks ma."

\-----

Dad dies. From a BT.

They both light candles, and sit in the middle of the bunker not letting the flame burn out until daylight hits.

"To make sure his journey to the beach goes smooth."

It's the shakey smile of his mother, in the dim candle light, that comforts him.

* * *

Four years later he meets Eliah. He's sixteen, Jackson is fourteen.

Eliah is brash and often loud. He's much more outgoing that Jackson ever has been in his entire life.

They meet on accident.

The day is cool, a welcomed outlier. The weather is perfect for soccer, which is a nice change of pace. Jackson was getting awfully bored of watching the others play marbles. Everyday is the same thing.

Jackson always wanted to run around and play games with the other kids on the base, but they never really like him all that much. Either he was too slow or too dumb and always seemed to be getting hurt.

Eliah isn't from this BHB. Apparently there was a voidout on one of the other bases, wiped the entire place off the map. Eliah was from that base.

From what Jackson could gather from the broken pieces of conversations he eavesdropped on like a fend, the boy is a prestigious technician (already Bridges certified despite being so young.) It's hard to tell when you look at him, running around with the other teens. Jackson hugs his legs closer, insecure. _He'd never be great like that._

It must have been awful returning home only to be met with a crater. Jackson shakes his head, cause he just can't think about things like that. It's just too sad. The sun is setting when Jackson feels a kick to his shin.

"Hey, dude! Sleepy...Hey, Sleepy!"

Eliah has these, _green_ eyes that shine like jewels in the setting sun. His expression is tight, yet kind. The boy sighs when he sees that Jackson is awake. Eliah rises to his feet, stretching. In his arms is the soccer ball he and the other kids were kicking around earlier.

"Finally, dude." Eliah chimes with a shit eating grin. "I was trying to wake you up for like— _ever_ —"

"Ever isn't a measurement of time." Jackson wants to say, but holds his tongue.

"Sorry." Jackson pulls himself up. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the wind felt nice against his skin soothing him.

"I'm Eliah."

"Jackson." The boy introduces himself, holding his hand out for a handshake.

"No, dude! That's so lame!" The boy is just a bit _intimidating_ as he puts his hand into a fist and offers it to the other teen. "Introduction fistbump?"

Jackson laughs and casually bumps his fist against Eliah's. "Introduction fistbump." He repeats.

\-------

They have known each other for three years. Eliah is already nineteen, filling out and becoming a man. He has more _responsibilities_ at Bridges now. He's always gone, just like Jackson's father before he died.

Maybe this fight was inevitable, but it's one that still haunts Jackson. He's still young compared to the others on the base. They no longer play marbles in the streets or soccer in the fields.

They work, and earn their keep.

Jackson is a few days shy of being seventeen and still hasn't found a rookie job on a destro-center or even here at the base. He needs one. Bridges isn't going to keep giving them pity credits to buy the things they need.

Bridges doesn't care his dad _died._ They care about _labor._

 _Some people have it so easy._ Jackson thinks to himself as he fills out the form for "junk disposal"

It's Eliah who finds him. That stupid grin on his face, still adorned in his stupid tech uniform.

"Hey." His friend greets, offering him one of the monster energy drinks they give out at the distro-center. Jackson only shakes his head. Eliah's smile dims. "You didn't welcome me back today." Eliah sits down next to Jackson. The kid was still trying to apply for weasel jobs.

Eliah takes a sip of the opened Monster, the syrupy liquid doesn't do much to quell the uneasy feeling in his gut.

"What happened to us?" Eliah asks, looking over the field they used to run around in just three years prior. Jackson is aggressively writing, he doesn't spare Eliah a glance or even the field a misty-eyed stare.

"Sleepy—" Eliah starts. He says the name so softly it hurts, but Jackson can't handle anymore of that,  
stupid, endearing, nickname.

"You thought you were too good for me..." Jackson whispers, blue eyes voided.

"What!" Eliah shouts incredulously. His thick eyelashes sweep up at the accusation. His boyish face falls into thick, sharpened lines. "I never said—"

"You never had to say it!" Jackson yells, pulling his legs closer to his chest out of habit. "You've always been better! When you were my age you were doing shit! Helping people... Getting _credits._ It's not fair that you were born to do something great and I was born just to be _stupid Jackson!"_

There is a long stretch of silence between the two. Eliah rises to his feet, coldly. "Noone is born great... Everyone is going to die the same way so what does it matter!" Eliah chucks the full Monster drink at Jackson, successfully hitting the boy on the head causing him to bleed.

Jackson places a hand on the painful area just above his brow bone. The boy is shocked to see red covering his hand when he pulls it back.

* * *

Jackson just turns seventeen when he applies for a porting job not far from the BHB and actually gets his first certification.

When he tells Eliah it's the first time they've talked since the fight.

Eliah is by the gates and fences, just on the perimeter of the base, talking to Luke (one of the lucky few who get to leave in a few months to become a part of the nursing staff at Central Knot.)

Eliah watches him walk up. His gaze is filled with such anguish and hostility.

"I'm offical a Porter, dude!" Jackson shouts with uncontrollabled enthusiasm.  
  
  


"Congratulations, _Porter."_ He spits the title out vilely, as if the very word itself was tainted.

_\------_

Eliah leaves one day, and never comes back to the base.

\------

He is eighteen when the dreams start

And never stop.

But Jackson doesn't really mind. In the dreams he sees the beach, and at the beach he _matters._

One day, the porter goes to port some medical devices to central knot and a voidout kills everyone on the BHB including his mother.

He can't seem to cry.

* * *

Jackson is now **_nineteen_**.

He's a shitty porter and an even shittier person. He lays down on the dirt roads of the remains of what once was America, unable to find the strength to get up sometimes. He sleeps, every chance he gets. All to see the beach.

He doesn't want to wake up. He was having a much bttter time asleep than he was awake. It was _sad_. When he woke up it was like waking up into a twisted nightmare.

Jackson—Porter is nineteen when he wakes up to Sam Porter Bridges staring down at him worriedly, and suddenly... Staying awake doesn't seem so bad anymore.

Until he dies.

\-------

The world comes to him with an explosion of pain, exhaustion, and _life_. Seawater fills his lungs and burns his throat.

"Hello, Jackson." A warm female voice greets him, her neat red shoes are untouched by time or sand. "Sorry for the trouble, but you locked me out of your beach so... I had to bring you to mine."

"Am...Amelie?"

The salt water forces itself up, through his mouth and nose. It's pure pain as Porter upchucks all over the sand surface of the beach. Only water and more water emerges from his mouth.

The woman has a pitiful look etched onto her features. "Does that hurt? I'm sorry... I tried to make it...tolerable. "

She rubs his back, attempting to be soothing. An unpleasant feeling worms it's way into Porter's stomach. His muscles spasmed and choked. Spit drops onto the puddle of wet sand.

"We have to talk. Okay Jackson? That's all I want to do, then I'll bring you back to life. Is that a deal?"

"I'm _dead_?"

Amelie nods, calmly. Her exterior is stone faced, but her lip trembles with the slightest emotion. Fear. Guilt.

It takes Porter a second to realize the gravity of the situation unfolding in front of his eyes. The young man snaps his gaze up to the woman. Her uneasy expression does nothing to settle the drum in his heart, pounding loud against his ears. He can't even hear himself think.

"You made Higgs kill me..."

The sentence leaves his body raspy, as if the boy was empty of everything he had to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever. Im sorry. I appreciate all kudos and comments!


End file.
